Marvel Mayhem
by RetroWriter2012
Summary: In this spin-off tale to the World of Disney saga, Genevieve - The Guardian of the Disneyverse - journeys to the Marvel Universe to protect it from old and new enemies, including the infamous Skrulls, and enlists in the help of the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., and Spider-Man.
1. A New Journey Begins

**Prologue: A New Journey Begins**

_"Joanie, what's happened to you?!"_

_"My name is Dawn, _creature_! And you and your companions will keep silent if you know what is best for you!"_

…..

_"Joanie! Please don't do this! This is __not__ you!"_

…..

_"How does it feel?_ _Enjoy your last moments of existence!"_

…..

_"We will meet again. Whether it's by this new face of yours or by one of your old ones, our business is far from over."_

* * *

Genevieve awoke with a loud, terrified gasp. Her forehead was drenched with her own sweat from the horrible nightmare she took a moment to recover from. But it was not a nightmare – it was a series of memories…memories of one woman who haunted her, no matter how hard she tried to forget about her. Dawn.

The first time Genevieve encountered her, during her original life as Sean Thomas, was an unforgettable moment. To see a woman who looked like Joanie Navarro but acted like a completely different person – a psychopath nonetheless – still sent chills through her. Dawn nearly killed Robin the Frog on their first encounter; it was something Joanie, after awakening from the sinister alter ego that nearly controlled her life, was unable to forgive herself over until she made things right by becoming the first Guardian of the Disneyverse.

For the previous eight months since she and Victoria had taken solace in the Muppet Theater, Genevieve had these recurring nightmares. It did not help her sleep status much by being in the basement – the former site for Muppet Labs and a living reminder of her first adventure with the Sphere. She wondered if there was some "ghostly residue" left behind in its banishment from the Muppets' realm, its original home. _Maybe __that__ is what's haunting me_, she thought while sitting up and staring at the brick wall where the Magic Gateway used to be housed.

"Another night terror?"

She looked to her left and saw Victoria, lying in her cot and staring up at the ceiling in annoyance.

"I'm sorry." Genevieve told her, wiping away her sweat with her bed sheets.

"It's the seventh night in a row." Victoria remarked, finally turning her eyes to Genevieve. "What is it that's got you all riled up?"

Genevieve swallowed hard before she answered. "It's Dawn. I don't know _why_ she's been on my mind so much these past months."

Victoria sighed, knowing exactly how she felt. "I've been a bit concerned myself since we last saw her, during the merge. I mean, what she said about us seeing her again…none of us really know _when_ or _where _that'll happen."

She was not doing much to ease Genevieve's anxiety, only making it worse by reminding her of that fateful moment when both of them, along with many other reincarnations, were merged as a new entity, self-named "JeniLynn." It was a moment that she had not forgotten and left her on edge ever since.

"When will the nightmares end, Genevieve?" Victoria asked, though Genevieve was not certain if it was for her own benefit or hers.

She shrugged with a look of uncertainty. "I think they're directing me somewhere."

"Somewhere in the Disneyverse?"

Genevieve shook her head. "Someplace _outside_ the Disneyverse."

"Here?"

"I don't know. But it _is_ someplace _very_ close."

* * *

_A new morning, a new start._

Ever since arriving back into the home realm of her original self, Genevieve took much pride in following that old motto. With Paula Abdul's "Promise of a New Day" playing in the background, she freshened up with a hot shower and put on the clothes she deemed suitable for her time back in the Muppet Theater – a grey sleeveless top, black leggings, a black bra (the straps of which showed with those of the top at times), and black knee-high boots. They were not just her usual threads, but her work clothes as well. She and Victoria were helping hands at the Muppet Theater – the deal they struck for taking up residence at there. While Victoria worked as "assistant-gofer-assistant" (a job that involved her working as an assistant to Scooter and most everyone else), Genevieve worked maintenance.

The two women found their jobs to be less than stellar compared with that of Sean Thomas, who worked as producer, director, and writer of the Muppets' shows in the Hollywood-based Theater (originally Orlando-based before moving production to California at the request of theater owner, Joan Navarro-Thomas). The current show he was responsible for producing, directing, and writing was "The Muppet Telethon," the intended comeback show for the Muppets.

In recent weeks, the stress of making the program perfect began to take its toll on Thomas. There was pressure from oil baron Tex Richman threatening to tear the theater down if the money needed to save the theater was not delivered in time. Then there was the fact that Thomas's wife, Christina, was just a month from her due date.

Genevieve remembered how the overwhelming pressure led into the ultimate failure in making enough money from the telethon to save the theater – something Thomas had to live with the rest of his life. As much as he deemed necessary not to interfere in the events of her original timeline, she delicately altered certain moments to ease tension for her "original," as she sometimes referred him as. Victoria did her share to help as well, such as taking Christina out to shop for baby clothes – a task that originally sidetracked Thomas from his work on the show.

In working maintenance at the theater, Genevieve was assigned to be the protégé of the janitor, Beauregard. She felt as if she hit rock-bottom; one day she was the all-powerful Guardian of the Disneyverse, and the next she was shown "the ropes" to "good mopping." It was an embarrassment, but she accepted it as long as she could keep a low profile in her observation of Sean Thomas. Of course, the unnecessary tutorials bore Genevieve to no end, especially when the task was not even required – Beauregard often mopped on a floor that was already clean.

That morning, during another dull tutorial, Beauregard fell asleep, standing and slumbering away on his mop. Genevieve took advantage of this to do some _real_ work. Heading out the backstage alley, she took care of a pile of old wooden crates that had been in desperate need of being dumped for some time. She handled the task all on her own, lifting heavy crates that were as light as a feather while she was in her Guardian mode and dumping them into the nearby dumpster. After disposing of a few crates, she started to make the time-consuming job more enjoyable for herself, going as far as performing a number of tricks with the crates, such as twirling them on the tip of her index fingers and treating them like basketballs – scoring three-point shots with them.

She couldn't remember when she last had so much fun while working at the Muppet Theater. With no one watching her every move, she felt like she was free to be what she usually was in the Disneyverse.

"Wow."

As she was in the process of lifting one of the last three crates, she turned her head to look back from her bent-over position to see Gary, Mary, and Walter staring right at her from across the alley. Frozen in place, with her backside facing directly at them, she felt more awkward than she cared to realize. Did they see her juggling those crates just a second ago?

"Uh…Genevieve?" Walter said. "A-Are you alright?"

Letting go of the crate, she turned to face them and did her best to hide her humiliation. "I'm…I'm fine. H-How are you all?"

"We're just getting back from a little sightseeing." Mary said; her surprise still evident in her demeanor. "Do you need anything? You barely look exhausted from all this heavy-lifting."

"Yeah, a job like this normally has two people doing it," Gary indicated, "but you're doing it all by yourself?"

"In the sweltering heat?" Walter added.

Genevieve gave a chuckle, waving off their concern. "You're all so sweet, but I'm fine. It's no sweat." She made that last statement sound more literal from the lack of _actual_ perspiration from her clothes and body.

"Well, I still wouldn't want you to finish alone." Gary said as he approached one of the crates. "Let me help you ou—" He made an attempt to lift the crate but barely managed to get it to budge. He gave one more effort, gathering all the might his six-foot, four-inch body had in it, and…

_CRACK!_

Gary's body stiffened in its hunched-over posture as the sound that was as clear as a bell resounded from his back, which strained the instant he made his attempt in lifting the crate.

"Oh, no." Walter muttered. "G-Gary? You O.K.?"

All that came out of Gary's trembling mouth were whimpers.

"Oh, my." Mary said, greatly concerned. "Walter, help me get him inside."

As he did so, Walter looked back to Genevieve and said, "This work doesn't need just two people – it needs _a dozen_!"

Genevieve shrugged. "Guess I'm stronger than I look." Even as she jokingly flexed her arms, Walter remained unconvinced and even a little suspicious of her. Once he, Mary, and the injured Gary were out of sight, she finished dumping the rest of the crates and returned inside.

She entered to find Beauregard still asleep in the same standing position she left him in. She shook her head, smiling, and moved along towards the stage area to see what progress Sean had made with the dress rehearsal.

To say that rehearsal was a disaster would be the understatement of the year. Due mostly to the spat between Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog, brought on by Kermit's inability to admit that _he_ needed her to come back for the show, the rehearsal led into a chain reaction of events that sent the whole thing spiraling into catastrophe. Gonzo had plans for an impossible stunt, many other Muppets missed their cues (with some of the bigger ones knocking over set pieces or getting stuck in them), and a few just were not getting into the rehearsal, opting instead to converse and have coffee with each other.

It all brought back memories of dread for Genevieve, watching her original struggle to maintain order over a bunch of characters who didn't know the meaning of the word. Once he realized that he was not getting anywhere, he yelled, "Take five!"

His loud, frustrated tone brought silence over the busy stage. The only one who made any further noise was Fozzie, whose "fart shoes" released their unsanitary sounds as he stepped forward and asked, "What five should we take?"

Unable to deal with Fozzie's ridiculous question (or his ridiculous shoes), Sean walked off stage right. He headed right in the direction of Genevieve; due to looking down in his despair, he accidentally bumped shoulders with her. The bump was hardly much to be concerned about, yet something gave her a powerful jolt in reaction to the contact their bodies made. Visions flashed before her eyes of people she met and places she had been to during her time in the Marvel Universe so long ago, when she was Sheryl – her second reincarnation. In her visions, she saw Nick Fury, the Avengers, Ciciley Livingston, and Ciciley's son, Sean Livingston – Sean Thomas's counterpart – as well as the Helicarrier and its battle with the Facilier-controlled Sphere.

Genevieve was so preoccupied with the visions that she failed to recognize the concerned voice repeatedly calling her name. She felt a pair of warm hands firmly grip her shoulders and shake her out of her trance. She finally noticed the alarmed Thomas, whose face was a blur for a brief moment before it came into focus. He looked directly into her dazed blue eyes and asked, "Are you alright?"

Blinking a few times to regain awareness, she replied, "Oh, yeah…I'm fine. Sorry. Just a bit off today, I guess." She reminded herself of the earlier scene she witnessed and followed up with a question of her own: "Are _you_ alright? I saw all the insanity that went on that stage."

Hearing this, he deeply inhaled and exhaled. "I don't think I'll be able to save the theater. But I want to keep hope alive for everyone…especially Walter. I see so much of myself in that little fella. He's a true Muppet fan, like I was before I worked with them."

Genevieve smiled at him. "Sit down."

"Why?"

"Just sit."

He did as she requested and sat on a stool near Kermit's old desk. She stood right behind him and placed her delicate hands tightly upon his shoulders, which she was surprised to see how broad they were – her hands looking slightly small while they were pressing down on them. He felt extremely tense, more than Genevieve remembered when she used to _be_ him. Her massage seemed to have made him more relaxed from the way he moaned with satisfaction.

"Tomorrow's my birthday," he randomly told her.

Genevieve was caught off guard by this, shocked that she failed to even remember the day. _I've lived for so long as many different people that I've forgotten the date of my __original__ birth_, she mentally reflected.

"Oh. That's cool." She remarked, feigning nonchalance. "Asked for anything nice?"

Sean chuckled, taking her question as a joke. "No one here has the time or money to get _me_ anything…not with all that's been happening between Richman and the telethon." He added with a flare of grimness, "The only birthday surprise I'll be getting is Richman laughing in my face."

"But Richman never laughs."

"_That_ would be the surprise."

Genevieve giggled. "Well, I promise you I'll get something for the special day."

Sean smiled, gently patting one of the hands she massaged him with. "Aww. I'm grateful for ya, but it's unnecessary. My _real_ gift will come in a month, when I see my baby girl born. I hope that the first thing she sees after coming into the world is me, smiling down on her while holding her little body in my big, warm arms. Becoming a father – that's the only real gift I deserve."

He felt something tap on his left shoulder; thinking that it was one of Genevieve's fingers, he looked to see a wet stain on the shoulder of his bright blue shirt. As soon as he heard sniffling, he curiously looked up to see how Genevieve's young, beautiful face was masked in tears. She had stopped massaging him and started crying.

Getting up from his chair in concern, he quickly comforted the young woman. "Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She assured him. "I'm just touched by your view on fatherhood."

Sean laughed. "Sorry about that. I'm just excited."

"Don't blame ya," responded Genevieve, wiping away her tears. "I know you're going to be an _awesome_ daddy."

The two smiled at each other just as they heard the stage door open and turned to see an incredibly exhausted Victoria enter, carrying every single one of the bags from Christina's "shopping spree" – half of them containing food she ordered. Both Christina herself and the scent of barbeque followed Victoria in; she held only a Styrofoam tray of BBQ chicken, ribs, and coleslaw.

Watching the winded Victoria nearly on the verge of collapse, Sean went right to scolding his pregnant wife. "Christina! You know better than that!"

"What?" She reacted with a mouthful of ribs.

"You got some strength to help this poor girl with all your stuff." Sean said, taking some of the bags away from Victoria.

Swallowing the bits of ribs in her mouth, Christina fired back, "I'm hungry and I'm having a baby – _sorry_." She went on to give the exhausted Victoria another order while taking another bite of the ribs: "Put all the baby stuff in the car outside but leave all the food in here, m'kay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Victoria wheezily acknowledged.

Sean shook his head in annoyance. "Victoria, don't worry about that. You just take a load off – literally."

She gave him a weak but grateful smile, plopping herself right onto the stool he sat in earlier. "Thank you, sir."

"And as for _you_," he pointed to his wife, "we need to have a word."

"Can I bring the chicken fingers with me?" Christina asked.

"_Now!_" He beckoned through gritted teeth, showing her how serious he was.

Following her husband's demands, Christina departed from the backstage area with her tray of barbeque. Once she was alone with Genevieve, Victoria exhaustedly dropped the shopping bags to the floor with a collective _clump_. "That woman…has royally…kicked my butt…today," she uttered between breaths.

Genevieve gave an understanding nod. "Yeah, she's somethin' else. Sorry you had to take the brunt of her attitude."

Victoria casually waved it off while removing her slippers and rubbing her sore feet. "Oh, it's quite alright. As long as that little one is sitting comfortably in her tummy, I'm willing to take whatever madness she sends my way." Gazing towards Genevieve for the first time since her return to the theater, she noticed how red her eyes were. "Have you been crying?"

Genevieve suspected there were traces left of her emotional breakdown. "I made _myself_ cry." She said this with a smile that grew when she noted the baffled look on Victoria's face. "Sean poured out his feelings on becoming a father to me."

"Aww. That had to be heavy for you to listen to him talk about things that _you_ have already experienced."

Genevieve nodded. "It was. That's how the waterworks started. But the memories I struggle with the most are the ones that came _after_ the birth of my daughter. I spend years living with my failure in saving the Muppets, affecting things between me and my family. I swear that I will make things right here in the past. But first I have to make things right elsewhere."

Victoria reacted in confusion and wonder to this declaration of hers. "Where is it that you're going?"

"I realized where Dawn will be next. It's somewhere I've been before…when I was someone else. And I'm going back as someone else _again_." She then added with a skeptical smirk, "I just hope skintight leather will agree with me."


	2. Welcome to the Mayhem

**Chapter One: Welcome to the Mayhem**

S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Sean Livingston sat at the driver's seat of a black Camaro in the middle of a Manhattan junkyard clearing for nearly four straight hours. Although it felt more like a stakeout with sitting in one area for a lengthy period of time, it was in actuality a sting operation that he was waiting to happen. He was on this assignment with Natasha Romanoff, the legendary Avenger and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent codenamed "Black Widow." They both wisely kept to civilian attire for the upcoming operation with Livingston donning a long black trench coat, black shirt, and black pants and Romanoff wearing a brown, buttoned-up leather jacket and black skinny jeans.

During the wait for the arrival of their target, a wealthy businessman by the name of John Saccheri of "Sacch Corporation," the two agents were relatively quiet in the Camaro. The radio played faintly, maintained on the same XM station since Sean started the car. He was thankful that it was a station that didn't play romantic tunes or else it would have made the wait far more awkward for him and Romanoff. It was not that she wasn't his type or even the fact that she was remotely the kind of woman who was into romance; he was already in a serious relationship with Maria Hill and wanted to keep it secret from most of everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D., especially his mother and Director Fury.

After three hours, Livingston felt as if something needed to be said about their assignment: "This is ridiculous. We are two of the most respected agents in the organization, and we're resulted to handling low-tier missions like this."

"Oh, I dunno." Natasha responded with a grin. "It's not so bad. Who knows – we could still see action."

Sean was surprised by her optimism. "You mean you aren't the least bit pissed about this? You fought the freakin' Chitauri for crying out loud. You should be on some solo mission in Latveria or teaming with Captain America for infiltration of a heavily-guarded terrorist base – not sitting here and letting your butt go numb for some businessman who thinks he's Wilson Fisk."

Romanoff shrugged. "I'm just broadening my horizons, I guess."

Her remark left him slightly baffled, but he decided to leave it be in respect for her. Instead, he opted to change the subject: "Regardless of low-levelness, I still don't want this thing to boil over. If something goes wrong, I hope _they_ make sure to listen closely for the signal."

While the young agent was increasingly tense, Romanoff remained calm and cool. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be O.K."

All he could do was take her word for it, especially after being interrupted by a series of headlights shining in their eyes. Looking ahead, they saw a white, stretched-out limousine, accompanied by two black Hummers and a black box truck, coming up toward them. With a heavy, nerved sigh, he looked to Romanoff and said, "Show time."

The two stepped out of the Camaro as the limousine and the three other vehicles pulled to a stop across from them. Upon removing herself from the passenger seat, Romanoff required a moment to stretch out her limbs, which were locked from the hours of sitting. It was an unpleasant sensation to say the least, specifically the parts of her that fell numb – including (coincidentally) her backside. She knew Sean was only speaking metaphorically when he spoke of her butt becoming numb from the waiting, yet it turned out what _exactly_ happened. She chose not to tell him about it for the sake of dignity and focus on their mission.

She looked with him to the limousine as a wide, stocky, bearded gentleman stepped out of the vehicle. He had thick black hair slicked with gel and wore a white, clean, pressed business suit, and a white fedora, included with a white trench coat draped on his wide frame; it all stood out from all the junk that surrounded him, as well as his black-suited bodyguards. It did not take much for Livingston and Romanoff to see that this was their man: John Saccheri. He approached them with eight bodyguards flanking him, puffing on a thick brown cigar and holding a white-silver cat. Sean thought the man resembled the stereotypical New York gangster – or something out of a _James Bond_ film.

"Panda."

Sean could've sworn he heard Natasha mutter that word as Saccheri came right up to them. This surprised him, being out-of-context with their situation (Saccheri did not resemble a panda in the least bit). He chose not to confront her on it – not with Saccheri and his men now standing in front of them. He puffed on his cigar, gazing left and right between Sean and Natasha.

Through the cigar in his mouth, he pointed to Sean and ordered two of his bodyguards, "Search 'im."

Anticipating this, Sean willingly held up his arms and allowed the two men to pat him down from top to bottom and search through the pockets of his coat. When the search was done, one of the men faced Saccheri and alerted, "This one's clean. You want us to search the other one?"

Saccheri's eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. "No, no. Allow me to have the pleasure doing that myself, boys." There were snickers among his men as he handed his white-silver cat over to one of them and advanced on Romanoff with a sick grin.

Seeing that grin, Natasha grew obviously nervous. "H-Hey. I don't have any weapons or wires on me, if that's what you're thinkin'. I'm _totally_ clean."

Saccheri shook his head. "Can't be too sure about that."

He grew closer, prompting Romanoff to back away. "No!"

He looked upon her with an angry, dissatisfied scowl. "Well, then I guess we should just call the whole deal off, eh?"

Sean gave a disgusted sigh. "Just let him do what he wants, Natalie." He did not plan on using cover names for this mission, but had to in this case, in order to remind Natasha how serious they had to be with Saccheri and his requests.

With no other choice, Romanoff raised her arms and allowed Saccheri's personal search to commence. It had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. Fondling more than patting, Saccheri made her the center of entertainment not just for himself but his men as well – all of them snickering like schoolboys. From the corner of her left eye, she could see Sean slightly pacing, his fists clenched in anger and frustration, although she couldn't tell if it was from Saccheri wasting their time or the show he was putting on with her. Either way, the feeling was mutual.

After a very slow three minutes, a gruesomely satisfied Saccheri ended the show, pretending to dust his hands off as he stepped away from Natasha. He was quick to move on to business, acting as if what he had just done to her never happened. "Now then," he began, taking back his white-silver cat from that one bodyguard. "You two are _really_ gonna like what I have for you. What I've got here is something that'll make even Tony Stark crap his pants. But, first, I must ask you this: what is the one species that we humans take the _least_ bit granted for? What is the one household pet that you see getting all the attention, all the respect, all the love, and all the pampering?"

It was obvious what Saccheri was alluding to, holding his cat up and down, left and right, and in circular motion as he asked his questions. Sean gave the answer the deluded businessman was looking for: "Cats?"

"Yes!" He gleefully shouted. "Cats! The beautiful predators that we least take for granted in our boring, everyday lives! Except for me. I've seen the potential that comes with these glorious creatures no one else has. Household, pet shop, alley…I'm taking every cat I find and implanting each one with a microchip that will allow total mind control over them. They'll be placed in 'good homes,' including the biggest home of them all – The White House, to spy and unleash their 'furry fury' whenever I command them to."

"That's _sick_." Natasha said exactly what Sean had been thinking during Saccheri's entire pitch to them. He knew the businessman was insane from his history with shady creations covertly linked to his company, but his latest "master plan" made him outright loony in the eyes of the young agent.

Saccheri smiled from Natasha's remark, taking her disgust as a compliment to his "genius."

"How will you control them?" Sean posed the question as part of the mission, needing the full information of this plot, even though he didn't really want to know the specifics.

The maniac smile on Saccheri's bearded face grew. "Thought you'd never ask. Follow me." They did as he requested and joined with him and his men over to the box truck, gathering near the rear doors of the cargo hold. A couple of his men worked together to open the rear doors, revealing a control center inside the cargo area. Lit up in the darkened space, the control center consisted of an array of computer monitors with a wide console that had various knobs, switches, lights, and buttons, in addition to a large keyboard. There was only one chair to sit in at the station; it was bolted down and had a seatbelt, making it suitable for operation while in transit, and it looked wide enough to fit Saccheri's frame.

This was proven once Saccheri stepped into the cargo area and sat at the station, setting his white-silver cat down on the floor near him. "Now…watch _this_," he said before typing a command into the keyboard that went through the computer system and transferred to the microchip implanted in the cat's brain. The transference was invisible to the naked eye, but it certainly resonated between computer and chip, evident from the sudden display of vicious behavior in Saccheri's white-silver cat, as opposed to its gentle demeanor in the time Sean and Natasha had seen it. It hissed at them, making them flinch – Livingston felt particularly embarrassed for doing so, even allowing himself to be caught by Saccheri.

"Ya see?" The mad businessman exclaimed in delight over the demonstration. "I can even manipulate his behavior from 'fussy' to 'bloodthirsty' with the simple turn of a knob!"

Romanoff became increasingly revolted from this presentation of what could only be described as "typical animal cruelty." "You are inhuman for doing this, you know that?"

Sean was caught by surprise from her openly belittling Saccheri and his project for the second straight time. The first time went entirely unnoticed by Saccheri, but this time he caught on to the fact that she was legitimately being critical of his work. Getting up from the station, he walked back over to them and asked in suspicion, "You both knew the mechanics of my merchandise. Why did you two show so much interest if you were just going to come here and criticize it?"

That was it. Sean knew their cover was blown, surprisingly by the one woman who excelled in maintaining cover. It was such a simple mission that Livingston knew there was no way it could go wrong with _the_ Black Widow at his side. But things began to take a turn for the worse that very second, and Sean knew he had to act right away to correct Natasha's rookie mistake.

"She's simply praising you through flattery." He said, hoping that appealing to the man's ego would help. "She's been _really_ fond of your work over the years."

Saccheri frowned. "How could you two know of my _other_ projects when I've just showed you this one?"

Sean's body tensed – he had now blown their cover _completely_.

In a heartbeat, Saccheri's men pulled out their guns and aimed them at the heads of Livingston and Romanoff. "Think we've got a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here, boys," the businessman realized. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s always been on my tail over my little experiments, calling them 'illegal,' 'immoral,' and…_inhumane_." He sharply uttered the last term while glaring towards Romanoff. "You've wanted to shut me down for a _long_ time. Well, I'm going to shut _you_ down!"

The two agents heard hear the guns of Saccheri's men click in response to his cryptic command.

"Big mistake coming into this without the necessary communication to call for backup." Saccheri panned.

"What the hell ya'll doin' 'round here in my yard!"

Whatever bloodbath that was about to happen there in the clearing was interrupted by the emergence of an elderly black man with curly, balding gray hair and a beard to match, wearing a red plaid shirt with lime green suspenders to hold up a grey pair of pants. He walked stiffly towards the group and yelled in a raspy, furious voice, "Ya'll get outta here! If ya ain't buyin', get to steppin'!"

"Get out of here, old man." Saccheri warned. "This is none of your business."

"Ya damn right it ain't none of my business, because my business is in junk, not trash!" The old man grumbled. "Now get the hell outta here!"

With the snap of his fingers, Saccheri gave an order for his men that need not to be spoken out loud. Immediately, all eight of them moved their guns away from Sean and Natasha, fixating them on the old man. In reaction, the elderly character raised one hand up while the other clutched his chest, a look of fear masking his face.

"Oh, lord!" He cried. "This is the big one!" He then looked to the sky and screamed, "Ya hear that, Elizabeth? I'm comin' to join ya, honey! With eight white men ready to do me in!"

Saccheri rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Drop the act, Gramps. I've watched enough of _Sanford and Son_ to know a fake heart attack when I see one." Even as he made this known, there was a lot about this character that reminded him of the one Redd Foxx was famous for.

Of course, the sudden collapse of this old man was _not_ part of the well-known routine. After watching him fall to the ground and lie there lifelessly, the frustrated Saccheri had enough. He took a gun from one of his men and walked to the fallen old man. He trained the gun on the old man's head, intending to shoot him there to bring some legitimacy to his "death."

Just as his finger was on the verge of yanking the trigger, Saccheri is suddenly blinded by a spotlight that shined over him and everyone else in the area. He instinctively looked up in an attempt to see where the light was coming from, hearing the deafening sound of jet engines to notify him of a possible aircraft directly above them. He fired his gun at the craft, despite not being able to see it past the light. His action not only proved to be futile but foolish as well, as the invisible, airborne intruder returned fire, blowing out the tires to the Hummers, Camaro, and truck; it managed to blow only one of the rear tires out on Saccheri's limousine.

Saccheri panicked in the midst of the ambush. "What is this?"

"It's called a distraction, _dummy_!"

He looked down to see the old man sitting up and aiming at Saccheri's head with a gun he retrieved from his "gut bulge." The elderly character smiled and said in an entirely different voice – one that sounded young and feminine, "Surprise!"

It was then Saccheri realized he had been played by yet _another_ S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, this one under heavy disguise.

Meanwhile, during the confusion, Sean leapt into action against Saccheri's eight bodyguards, disarming and subduing them with a series of aggressive, tactical attacks that led to the men suffering unimaginable injuries; bending back arms at the elbow and kicking in legs at the knee, he shattered the human appendages in a matter of seconds. A horrified Natasha stood by and witnessed the display of violence from the young agent.

When he was finished with the last man, Sean exhaustively looked to Romanoff, who stared over the bodies of the groaning, injured men. "Hey!" He belligerently yelled, scaring her out of the trance that the brutal scene put her in. "The hell's wrong with you, Romanoff? Why didn't you back me up?"

She was speechless; but her chance to respond was taken away by a series of sudden explosions that erupted around the scene. The invisible aircraft above them recoiled and, in response to the unexpected chaos, dropped its camouflage, revealing itself to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet. Temporarily unsighted by the dirt and rocks that rained down on her and everyone else, Natasha spotted Saccheri retreating to his limousine. The scared businessman yanked the driver out and took the wheel himself, speeding away from the junkyard.

Romanoff immediately chased the vehicle on foot, running at a velocity that only someone fueled by a Super Soldier serum – like Captain America – could possibly run in.


	3. Mystery Seventy-Two

**Chapter Two: Mystery Seventy-Two**

"Yeah! YEAH! That's how it's done, baby! YEAH!"

Saccheri gave a beastly roar as he sped through the streets of Manhattan, reveling in his masterful escape from the junkyard. With only three functioning tires (sparks flew out from the one that was shot up in the Quinjet attack), he managed to put as much distance between himself and S.H.I.E.L.D. as possible. He took much pride in having rigged the junkyard with explosives before the meeting. _Never trust your buyer – that's what I always say_, he emotionally mused.

Although he knew that he was free from oppression, he did not slow down his driving; in fact, he increased the speed of the limo, pressing his foot on the gas pedal as hard as he could. Then, out of nowhere, a loud _thud_ from atop the limo resounded, making him nervous. As he tried to figure out what might have possibly created the sound, he was suddenly surprised by a familiar (albeit masked) face that looked right at him through the glass and said, "Bet you didn't expect _this_ bug on your windshield!"

"Spider-Man!" Saccheri screamed, firing his gun at the windshield in an attempt at executing the Wall-Crawler.

Spidey ducked away in time, leaving shards of glass to spread all over the car's interior, from the dashboard to the passenger seat. "Normal people just use the wipers!" Saccheri heard him continue to antagonize him from somewhere atop the limo while he persisted in his escape, speeding through incoming traffic. He fired his gun at the roof, knowing Spider-Man was still there and hoping one of the bullets fatally killed him. But Spider-Man was resilient, dodging each fired bullet with ease.

Things only got worse for Saccheri, whose panic increased dramatically when Spider-Man gripped the driver's side door and ripped it off its hinges, exposing Saccheri to the dangerously rapid atmosphere outside. "Should've been wearing a seatbelt if you planned on fighting a guy in a leotard tonight, big man," he heard the Web-Slinger say to him from somewhere outside.

In a desperate move, Saccheri made a hard left, heading directly into a vacant district. He drove upon a factory, crashing through the gated entrance and coming to a screeching halt right in the middle of an empty parking lot. Not wasting any time, he quickly wedged his wide frame out of the cramped space between wheel and seat and trained his gun on the roof of the damaged limo, expecting Spider-Man to be there. But Spidey was nowhere to be seen, influencing paranoia in Saccheri, who made haste into the factory without a second thought.

Arriving in time to see Saccheri retreat into the factory, a barely exhausted Natasha Romanoff appeared right at the broken gates. She was just about to rush in after him until she was surprised by Spider-Man, who swung in and landed right near her without making so much as a peep. She gave a slight shriek, having been completely caught off guard.

"Sorry 'bout that." Spidey said while crouched down just a few feet across from her. "Did you _run_ all the way here? How could you've reached here from the junkyard so fast on foot?"

Romanoff seemed hesitant to give him a response. She turned very stern and gave a hardnosed command to the Wall-Crawler instead: "Never mind about that. I'm going in to catch Saccheri. You alert S.H.I.E.L.D. of this location. Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it. Sheesh." Spider-Man sassily acknowledged, swinging away from the scene afterward.

Watching the masked hero depart with such an attitude, Natasha wondered if she was a little _too_ assertive towards him. Unfortunately, she did not have time to focus on that. She rushed through the front entrance of the factory and found it to be so dark inside that she could barely see. She rectified this issue with a trick that she could only pull off when she was as alone as she was right there and then. Her eyes lit up in a ghostly white hue, working as a flashlight to guide her way through the darkness. Out of the pitch blackness, it was the glow from her eyes that only stood out.

There was enough brightness to allow Saccheri, who hid behind one of the brick columns within the building's first floor, to see exactly where he needed to go: a nearby service elevator. Yet the businessman was curious to know what kind of flashlight Romanoff used to illuminate the _entire_ floor as she did. Glimpsing around the corner of the column, he was spooked to see the light come directly from her eyes, as if she were some kind of demon. The eeriness was enough to force Saccheri away from the column and make a mad dash for the elevator. The claps his five-thousand dollar pair of shoes made on the concrete floor drew attention from Romanoff.

Her eyes still lit in the darkness and on him, she chased after Saccheri but was too late; he had already stepped inside and frantically pressed the button that brought the doors together, separating them. She looked to the old-fashioned elevator dial indicator above to see that Saccheri headed for the sub-level of the factory. Her eyes turned from ghostly white to dark purple upon switching her vision to an "x-ray mode," in order to see where Saccheri was headed. What she saw was his skeletal form traveling down the elevator and arriving in an area filled with things that looked far more "alien" than they were even in her "x-ray vision." Desiring to find out what was in that room, she performed another special trick that would have seemed uncharacteristic of her to anyone who bore witness to it: her body turned invisible and teleported away from the first floor, moving into the lowest floor.

What she arrived in was a black-lighted room filled with an incredibly wild assortment of artifacts that were _factually_ alien in origin. To Romanoff, it was a museum of weirdness. There were body parts of creatures she could not begin to identify strung up on the walls and hung from the ceiling, dangling all around her; it was evident from the usage of the tools for this décor that this factory was once used for meat. There were also devices either situated on a workbench or propped against a wall – some of which looked like weapons, akin to a staff or a gun. But what frightened her most out of this room was the appearance of a full-bodied alien corpse of some type that had been given the taxidermy treatment, stuffed and mounted in the corner.

Right beside the alien corpse was a six-foot steel chamber, housing a living redheaded woman who – as Romanoff noticed through the small, rectangular window lined up perfectly with the woman's head – wore her long hair in a 1940s Victory Rolls style, glamoured up with makeup suitable for a common female in that era. She was asleep inside the chamber, which was filled with a bright blue light that illuminated her docile face. Written crudely on the rusted hull of the chamber was the word "Mystery," followed by the number "72."

_Mystery Seventy-Two? What's so mysterious about __her__?_

Romanoff decided not to ponder too much on it as Saccheri was her only focus of attention at the moment. She realized he was nowhere to be seen in the room; because of this, she opted to drop her invisibility. As she had done so, she heard what could only be a baby cooing close nearby. Rounding a corner and stumbling into a room that looked to be once used for slaughtering animals but was currently reserved for an infant boy lying in a crib similar to one found in a hospital nursery. The crib was situated on a worktable stained with the blood of the dead animals that were cut open on it. A light shined directly over the baby, making him stand out in the dark room.

"What the…?" Natasha whispered in confusion and shock, approaching the infant as he continued to coo, not a bit bothered from his abandonment – not that he would have noticed. She discovered a duct-tape label that read "Karter – Mystery 29" on the end of crib. "Karter, huh? Well, at least he named you." The child looked right at her, seeming to be really happy to see her from the way he giggled. She smiled at him, tickling his belly. "Aww. You're just the cutest little fella, aren't ya? Bless your heart. Why does that man have you in here?"

Her motherly moment was abruptly cut short by something she felt pressed hard against the back of her head. Knowing that she didn't back into it, she realized that it had to be Saccheri and the barrel of his gun. "Don't move, unless you want your brains to splatter all over the kid." She looked down at Karter, who remained in his happy state, totally unaware of the dangerous situation happening close by him. She kept herself completely still with her hands held high, fearing one mistakable move will end her life. "How do you like my Man Cave of Horrors? I've kept this room as a treasure trove for all the weirdness that me and my company have come across since the Battle of New York, a few years back. We've collected what much of the Chitauri we could, dissecting them and their tech to discover their special little secrets."

Saccheri pointed to an alien-looking gun on one of the workbenches and the mounted Chitauri corpse as examples. He pressed the gun barrel harder against Romanoff's skull as he continued in his address: "I knew who you were the moment I saw you, Natasha Romanoff. You were all over the news as one of the Avengers in that battle."

"That'd explain the _personal_ body search," she mockingly remarked.

Her snide comment got her a hard knock on the head, courtesy of Saccheri and his gun barrel. She reacted in slight pain, which he took notice of with amusement. "Is an LMD so advanced these days it can _feel_ pain?"

"LMD?"

"Do _not_ play dumb with me _again_!" His loud, furious voice shook Karter out of his happy mood and left the child crying. "I know you're not the _real_ Natasha Romanoff. The _real_ Black Widow doesn't teleport, turn invisible, or has glowing eyes." He then leaned close to her right ear, practically sniffing her hair, and whispered, "I know you're not human. You're gonna make a _wonderful_ addition to my collection."

Something in Natasha instantly snapped in reaction to his statement. She took advantage of his close proximity and elbowed him in the stomach. As he recoiled in pain, she twirled and faced him, grabbing at his wrist with an intense grip and forcing him to let go of his gun.

Falling to his knees with an agonized face, he was quick to beg for mercy. "P-Please let me go. Please. I…I wasn't serious. Honest. Please."

She saw the tears welling up in his eyes from the excruciating hold she had on him. Seeing what she had done surprised even her; with all the violence she witnessed that evening, she had finally let it get to her of all people. The beseeching look Saccheri had given her brought some sympathy back into her heart for him, as odd as it was for her to admit. "You know…I once knew you… as a different person in a different world. Seeing you like this…what _I'm_ doing to you now…it breaks my heart…because I'm reminded of that good friend I lost…and I think of him when I see your face."

Confusion replaced fear as Saccheri saw her pouring her emotions out to him, mentioning things that had no bearing to him whatsoever. Seeing _real_ tears come out of her eyes made him even more baffled. He felt the unbearable grip she had on his wrist loosen up, cluing him on the fact that she had let her guard down. Using this as an advantage, Saccheri reached into his back pocket to retrieve a switchblade, which he activated the second it was out of his pocket and in his hand.

He waited for the right moment, watching Romanoff slightly turn away from him in her questionable bout of depression. And then, with swiftness he hardly even knew he had, he dug the sharp blade right in the left side of her abdomen. The fierce grip over his wrist returned as she reacted to the attack; he yelped in pain just as she did. However, _her_ pain did not appear to last for long. The switchblade was kept there in her abdomen with blood seeping out through the hole it made in both her jacket and flesh, but her body remained stiff as a board while she stood over Saccheri.

That glow from her eyes that he witnessed earlier had returned, only it was more aggressive this time. Scared out of his wits, Saccheri pleaded to her, "Don't kill me, Romanoff. _Please_ don't kill me!"

"You were right, Mister Saccheri," she spoke in a hollowed voice. "I'm not Natasha Romanoff."

"Then who…_what_ are you?"

"I am the Guardian."

The glow grew brighter and brighter in the black-lighted room, which shook in answer to the unearthly force of nature she had apparently summoned into it. All Saccheri could have done in reaction to it all was scream in horror, the glow finally engulfing him and the rest of his "Man Cave of Horrors."


	4. Too Many Secrets

**Chapter Three: Too Many Secrets**

Ciciley would never have imagined a physical examination would turn into such a spectacle; of course, the type of examination she requested would call for such a show. In the research lab within the Bus, a specialized Boeing C-17 Globemaster III owned and modified by S.H.I.E.L.D. and a flying command center for Agent Phil Coulson and his team of agents, Ciciley found herself engaged in a challenge of endurance with the woman commonly known as "Mindy," or "Subject M1986" to the higher-ups. The two women were tested on their levels of endurance via treadmills. The examiners were S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, two trusted members of Coulson's team that were undoubtedly the "brains" of the group.

Donned in black yoga pants and sports bras, neither Ciciley nor Mindy broke a sweat or tired in the four hours they ran. This extreme level of durability was the reason Ciciley asked for the examination – to find out how she had gotten to be so "super." Ever since the "Project Geo" incident, she had not once got sick, injured, or even aged in the two years she had been enjoying living a literally rejuvenated life in her twenties again. At first she loved every second of it, being back in the field and assisting her son on his missions (something that aggravated him to no end, especially with the agents unaware of her "miracle" and thinking they were a couple); however, after getting shot during a recent assignment and healing from the wound in a matter of hours, she needed to get answers.

She asked for Mindy to be brought in on account of her history of being just as genetically superior as Ciciley had become. There were still many secrets S.H.I.E.L.D. had been attempting to unlock with Mindy since they discovered her; and with Ciciley now on her level, she felt connected to this unsolved mystery.

After the first hour of running on the treadmills, it became a competition between the two women to see who could run the fastest, with both eventually reaching the max speed of the machines within the fourth hour. What turned the examination into a spectacle was the audience it garnered from the other members of Coulson's team – Agent Grant Ward, Agent Melinda May, and a genius-level hacker named Skye. They took bets to see whether Ciciley or Mindy would trip first, since there was zero chance of either woman stopping any other way. But there turned out to be another way with the sudden short circuit that slowed the treadmills, ultimately shutting them and the contest down altogether.

Ciciley and Mindy slowed and stopped along with their machines. The first thing Skye noticed as their legs stilled was how much they were at ease – not a hint of trembling could have been detected in them. Neither woman was breathing heavy or expressing any other signs of exhaustion, much to Skye's surprise. "Damn. You two are made of something that's as durable as the Energizer Bunny. What that 'something' is, of course, is the question."

"And that is why we're doing these tests." Simmons stated, moving to the treadmills to listen to both Ciciley's and Mindy's heartbeats, placing the chest piece firmly in between their breasts. The sound she heard resonating from the earphones surprised her. "Remarkable! Your hearts are beating on average paces! It's as if neither of your hearts has even bothered to recognize the strenuous workout you both just went through! And your breathing is quite normal as well!"

"Well, _we_ could've told you all that." Ciciley remarked. "But can you tell us _why_ neither of us are feeling as pooped as we should?"

"We're about to find out," said Fitz, who proceeded in scanning both women with a handheld "bio-scan" device that reminded Ciciley a lot of a UV light. The device's functions were connected to the research lab's Holotable.

Holographic models of Ciciley and Mindy's biological structures were suddenly projected above the surface of the table, displaying live readouts of their active physiologies. Ciciley grew very curious and even a bit worried upon seeing their organs glowing in a mix of gold and rainbow colors in the projections. "Is…Is all that glowing part of the displays?"

Simmons appeared just as disturbed as she looked at the models. "I'm afraid not. The glowing is _actually_ what's happening in your bodies right at this moment."

"What's making them do that?" Skye asked.

"I'm not entirely certain." Simmons replied with a shrug. "I've never seen energy like what they are eradiating. But it's definitely alien in origin."

"And it appears to be much stronger in Mindy than in Agent Livingston." Fitz indicated, pointing to Mindy's model, which irradiated much brighter luminosity than Ciciley's. "We would know a little more if we were to have access to all the research notes taken from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s study on Mindy."

"Those files are all classified." May informed. "You'd need Level 9 clearance just to breathe on them."

"I've got that clearance, and _I'm_ not even allowed to have access to them." Ciciley remarked.

Skye frowned. "Well, that doesn't make sense. Why does a Level 9 agent _not_ have access to Level 9 files?"

"Because there are some secrets that are too much to know."

The voice spoke from near the entrance to the research lab and startled a few inside, not hearing any signs of anyone approaching. Heads turned to the speaker, seeing it to have been Coulson himself. Ciciley knew of his return to duty after the events of New York for months, yet she could just not get over seeing him standing there – alive and well – and looking the same as he usually did in that black suit and tie of his. The tone in his voice as he addressed the group was somewhat critical…something that did not get over Melinda May's radar.

"Just got an update on the situation in Downtown Manhattan with our friend John Saccheri." Coulson said – ever the one to get right to business. "He's been apprehended and will be transferred here. It's believed that he could be working with Centipede, but we won't know for sure until we've questioned him. But that's not all – Natasha Romanoff also uncovered his 'personal museum' beneath the site of an abandoned meat factory. I'm sending everyone but Skye to accompany Ciciley and Mindy to the site and investigate."

"What's Saccheri been keeping in this museum?" Ward inquired.

"Among other things, Chitauri body parts, a cryogenically frozen woman, and a baby." Coulson confirmed.

"A baby?" Simmons exclaimed in repulsion.

Coulson nodded in his own disgust over the thought. "You can see why they wanted the best involved in this. We'll be here when you get back."

As soon as everyone departed from the research lab, Ciciley pulled Coulson aside to have a private conversation. "Why aren't you going with us?"

"There are more important matters that need my attention."

"This has to do with your 'resurrection,' doesn't it?" He didn't reply, but he didn't have to in order for Ciciley to know the truth. The hard look he gave her said enough. "I knew all that 'Tahiti' talk was bullshit when the stories got more ridiculous. Who the hell can _really_ hold their breath for _that_ long?"

"Trust me. The less you know about what I'm doing, the better."

"Phil, we've been friends for years. I owe a lot to you. Whatever you've got going on, let me help you on it."

He paused and reflected on her offer for a second. Finally, he said, "You want to really help me? Help by reaching Fury. I know how close you two are, and I don't want to put any rift between the both of you – but I need to know where he is."

Ciciley gave a cooperative nod. "Sure, Phil. Sure. I'll do whatever I can. But, just letting ya know, _I_ don't even where Nick might be. I've been needing to tell him something important – something that he needs to know after 28 years."

Her urgency on the matter planted curiosity into Coulson. "What's that?"

Ciciley smirked. "You've got _your_ secrets, and I've got mine."

Coulson understandably smiled. "'Too many secrets can kill the morale.' That was _your_ old saying, wasn't it?"

She confirmed this with a nod. "Thank God I've just got this one. And the sooner I get it out in the open to the right person, the better I'll feel."

"Gotcha. I'll see you later."

"Ya know, my son is a _huge_ fan of you. He'd be thrilled to know that you're alive again."

Coulson stopped and half-turned towards her, knowing that she was still attempting to make him change his mind about attending the factory investigation. "As flattered as I am to know that _I_ have a fan, I can't risk exposing himself to an Avenger on the scene. Most of the team still believes I'm dead… and I'd like to keep it that way, until I get my answers."

Ciciley understood this reasoning, yet still persisted. "He named a gun after you."

"That's nice." Coulson remarked, continuing on his way.

"He says it's vintage."

"I've heard that one before."

* * *

At the request of Sean Livingston, the entire meat factory district – its earlier vacancy now bustling with S.H.I.E.L.D. activity from outside – to be sectioned off, once he received word from Spider-Man that Saccheri was located there. He stood not far from the factory entrance, staring right at it but not actually _looking_ at it, clearly lost in his thoughts. Standing by him was Elendriel, his half-sister, fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and "mistress of disguise." She removed her latest masterpiece – her "Fred Sanford" cover – starting with the "balding wig" she donned for the role, letting her long, flowing blond hair out. She proceeded on to the phony, skimpy beard before wiping off the brown-colored makeup that covered her peach-colored complexion.

"Sorry for goin' all blackface for the cover, bro." She jested, but he did not seem perturbed or the least bit interested in what she had to say. Taking notice in this, she asked, "Hey, dude. You O.K.?"

"I was nearly blown up tonight – I'm far from 'O.K.'" He frigidly remarked.

"You've been 'nearly blown up' before, ya know. A few land explosives shouldn't be fazing you right now."

He sighed, realizing there was no covering up his emotions, especially not in front of his highly-observant sister. "O.K. You got me. I'm pissed about Romanoff screwing up the operation and blowing our cover."

Confusion overcame Elendriel as she heard this. "Natasha Romanoff…The quintessential _Queen of Covertness_. She doesn't know the meaning of 'screw-up.'"

"I know. But something was really off about her during the exchange with Saccheri. She muttered the word 'panda' when she saw him."

Elendriel raised a curious eyebrow that was still bushy, gray, and curly from her disguise. "Seriously? Saccheri didn't even _look_ like a panda – more like a polar bear with that bright-ass suit."

Sean had more to say on the topic but was forced to hold his comments once he and his sister caught sight of a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wheeling Saccheri out of the factory on a stretcher. They were both surprised to see that the madcap businessman had a strait jacket placed on him, which seemed extensive even to Sean. He and Elendriel approached as the agents wheeled Saccheri close to them. Saccheri mumbled incoherently and his eyes darted left and right rapidly, searching for something.

"What's wrong with him?" Sean asked the agents, who stopped once their superior addressed them.

"Romanoff found him this way in his secret room." One of the agents informed. "She requested that we cart him out like this."

"SHE'S NOT ROMANOFF!" Saccheri bellowed, drawing the attention of every S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel around them with his outburst. "She's not the _real_ Romanoff! She's some_thing_ else! She's not human! She's a freak! SHE'S A FREAK!" He continued repeating this after Sean nodded for the agents to continue wheeling the officially insane businessman away.

Briskly, Livingston headed into the factory with Elendriel catching up behind him. Together, they journeyed to the sub level to see Saccheri's secret room. The moment they walked in the black-lighted area, Elendriel was immediately caught by surprise from the foul odor that it gave off. "Oh, God! Smells like the inside of a butthole in here!" She soon realized _why_ there was an odor as she saw the various raw alien body parts strung up all around. Between sight and smell, she was nearly on the verge of vomiting.

S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel crowded the room, confiscating all of Saccheri's collection. The Chitauri body parts were placed in bio-hazard containers carrying the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia. Sean and Elendriel passed them to join with the special agents dispatched to the scene that included S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists Fitz and Simmons and operatives Ward and May. Their mother, Ciciley, was there with them as well.

"You're safe." She said with great relief, sharing a hug and a kiss with Elendriel. "I heard how the exchange went down and worried that you ha—" When she went in to hug and kiss her son, she was surprised to see him completely bypass her attempt, walking right by her as if she wasn't there.

Seeing how hurt Ciciley appeared to be from this, Elendriel did her best to provide comfort. "It's nothing personal. He's just having a rough night."

Ciciley nodded understandingly. "I'm just thanking God he's still here. My heart skips a beat each time I hear you two are out in the field."

"You've got nothin' to worry about." Elendriel assured her. "We're trained professionals now."

"Where's Natasha?" They heard Sean ask, seeing him address the entire group with this question.

"We didn't see her when we walked in." May replied.

Ward acknowledged the young agent's presence in the room with a nod. "Good seeing ya again, Sean. Been a long time since recruit."

In spite of the hell he had gone through that evening, it was undoubtedly welcoming for Livingston to have old friends there in the investigation. "Right back at ya, Grant." He then centered his focus on May and asked, "How're you enjoying being out on the field again, May?"

She gave her usual deadpan response: "Same as always."

"So what weird crap was Saccheri up to in here?" Elendriel queried, fighting to keep the foul smell from hitting her tongue.

"Basically dabbling in Chitauri tech to advance his." Fitz responded.

"Could've been _this_ tech he used to develop his mind control chip for cats." Sean deduced.

Ciciley snickered. "Mind control cats? Sounds like something out of a comic book."

"Or a Saturday Morning Cartoon." Elendriel added with a chuckle.

The cooing of a baby directed their attention to the adjacent room where the mysterious infant named Karter had been treated by Simmons at the worktable he was found on. After checking his vitals, Simmons smiled at the child and carried him out of his crib. "There you go, sweetheart. That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Karter, seeming to understand Simmons, giggled a reply.

Ciciley's heart melted when she and the agents discovered the baby in the disturbing area. The fact he had been kept there for God knew how long, without any supervision, disgusted Ciciley as much as it did Simmons. "Is he O.K.?"

"He's more so than that, Agent Livingston." Simmons said. "He's perfectly healthy, if not completely normal. There are no abnormalities I can find in him that would excuse his being kept alone in such a dreadful place such as this. I mean, how despicable can one human being be to keep a baby like a human guinea pig! If I had a precious living being like this to care for, I would—"

"Jemma." Fitz calmly said, seeing how she almost distracted herself from the tantrum she nearly flew into.

Embarrassed, Simmons slightly kept her head down. "Sorry."

"Can I hold him?" Ciciley requested – a request that astounded Sean nonetheless.

"Of course." Simmons granted permission, carefully handing Karter over to her.

She cradled him in her arms, her face close to his, making kissing sounds with her puckered lips that made him even giddier. It was such a heartwarming moment that brought a smile to those around them, including Melinda May (who rarely ever smiled). Sean was the only one whose face remained low, still surprised by how motherly Ciciley was to Karter. He had not seen her that way since _he_ was a child. The hardened woman he knew in recent years seemed to have faded away that moment. He wasn't sure what happened to bring out the mother she once was, but he grew more amused as he saw her be more "human" than he had ever seen her.

The peaceful moment was disrupted by a loud _bang_ that resounded near them, moving their attention away from Karter and to where a few S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel moved the cryogenic chamber in the room out on a trolley. The front of the chamber faced them, allowing them to see the sleeping 1940s redhead inside.

Ciciley's eyes widened at the sight. "STOP!"

The personnel followed her command. She rushed to the chamber to get a closer look at the woman through its window. Sean saw the look of familiarity and growing anxiety she had upon seeing the sleeping woman. "Do you know her?"

"Sean…this…this is your grandmother…_my_ mother."


	5. Where You Come From

_**NOTE: This chapter contains spoilers to "Captain America: The Winter Soldier." If you have not yet seen the movie, see it first before reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Where You Come From**

While S.H.I.E.L.D. had the rest of the meat factory facility covered, Mindy opted the scout its rooftop alone. A flat structure with wide, towering brick chimneys spaced apart, once reserved for emitting the smoke from rotted meat and entrails burnt in furnaces, Mindy detected something strange and alien there. From the common observer, it would seem as if she were investigating or scouting the area as part of protocol; however, she was in actuality searching for someone…someone familiar.

Halfway across the rooftop, she heard an agonized groan from her right. Turning to that direction, she saw none other than Natasha Romanoff leaning against one of the chimneys in obvious pain. From her abdomen, there was a switchblade dug deep through her flesh – blood seeping out like a stream. Immediately, Mindy rushed to her aid as her body slumped against the chimney.

"Oh, my god." Mindy whispered. "What are you doing back here, Genevieve?"

There was no denying the truth that was so blatantly obvious the moment she saw the woman who made herself to look like Natasha Romanoff to everyone else. The "Morphomakeo" spell, perfected by Genevieve herself, was meant to only fool non-magical beings in seeing her as whomever her disguise was based upon. To Mindy, who was anything but non-magical, Genevieve only looked as if she were Romanoff in a costume meant to mimic her appearance.

"Why do you still have this switchblade in your stomach?"

"I didn't want _them_ finding it and tracing the blood to me…plus, it _really_ hurts when I try to yank it out."

Mindy could see Genevieve's body breathing and quivering heavily from pain that would have been unbearable to the average human being. Being a reincarnation, the seventeenth one in a line after the death of Sean Thomas, Genevieve had experienced various forms of anguish in her prior deaths. The stabbing she suffered was merely another footnote.

"Alright. _I'll_ take it out on the count of three, but I'm gonna need you to be braced, alright?"

Genevieve nodded, doing as she was instructed. Slowly, Mindy counted – each number before "three" another excruciating throb in her wound. By the time she did get to the third number, she pulled out the switchblade with all her might. The overwhelming sensation that conquered her abdomen encouraged her to let out an agonized moan. She managed to keep the pitch low enough to not attract the attention of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel all over the area.

Mindy lifted Genevieve's jacket and saw the gaping, bloodied hole in her flesh created by the switchblade; it had broken completely through the skin and bled profusely. That was until a golden glow soon overtook the wound. It closed up on its own, healing itself to the point where it was no longer existent. All that remained was blood caked over where the wound had once been. Relief quickly swept over Genevieve's once- tormented body; her breathing steadied and she was comfortably still while sitting against the base of the chimney.

"O.K. Now that that's all over, you wanna share with me just what you think you're doing back in the Marvel Universe?" Mindy urged.

"I tracked Dawn here." Just hearing that name out of Genevieve's mouth unsettled Mindy. "I've had visions of her that have led me to this world."

Mindy shook her head. "The nightmares I've had my own about that woman have been in my head since she stole Yvette's reincarnated form and renamed herself after her. It's like she's using that part of us to _haunt_ us in our dreams."

"Why would she want to be here?" Genevieve asked this knowing that Mindy had sort of made the world her home in her life cycle and grown familiar with it – from living in it and how familiar she was with it from her life as Sean Thomas.

Mindy shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Dawn is unpredictable now that she's one of us. But I would venture to guess that she plans to use one of the events that will occur in this universe to her advantage. She _does_ have _my_ memories of this place – past, present, _and _future."

"What kind of events?"

"Well, quite a bit has happened since the Dr. Facilier incident: Tony Stark destroyed all his suits after fighting this guy named Killian and his 'Extremis' army, Phil Coulson has been resurrected and is leading his own team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Thor was last spotted in London and battling these creatures called 'Dark Elves,' and – just recently – Captain America and Black Widow went on a rescue mission. And, speaking of Widow, how the heck did you manage to fool S.H.I.E.L.D. into believing _you_ are Romanoff when the _real_ Romanoff is on her mission?"

Genevieve smirked. "I only fooled the handful. But they'll do the math pretty soon, I bet."

"And you'd better watch your butt when they do. You're not the same person you were when you were last in the Marvel Universe. They won't see Sheryl when they find out who you really are, so I hope you have a plan for explaining the change of appearance."

"After all that you told me just now, they've dealt with _weirder_ things than a woman who can change her face and personality. I was the one who helped stop Facilier from controlling the worlds, remember? All I have to do is find the right people to explain that to."

"_And_ find the right people to trust."

Genevieve raised a curious eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"There are things that'll happen soon in this universe that will change _everything_. Let's just say that if you intend on using Black Widow's look any further, you could find yourself in more trouble than you'd want to have."

* * *

To most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel that discovered her, she was referred as the "cryogenic woman." But to Ciciley, she was known as Chrissy Livingston – her mother and the grandmother of Sean and Elendriel. Chrissy was transported to a S.H.I.E.L.D.-operated hospital facility in Washington, D.C. where she was "thawed out" and sent immediately to a bed, hooked up to multiple machines that kept her stabilized in her recovery. Her long red hair was down, her makeup washed away, and she was fitted with a gown, bearing the full look of an actual hospital patient. Sean and Ciciley watched her as she slept in the bed, both of them feeling like Phil Coulson while he kept tabs on Steve Rogers during _his_ recovery from a frozen slumber.

"How is this possible? Who did this to her?" These were two of many questions that ran through Sean's mind as he watched the young woman that was his grandmother lying unconscious in the bed. "You told me that she died while giving birth to you."

"I'm just as shocked and confused as you are, hon." Ciciley remarked, almost in a whisper. "What I told you about your grandmamma is what your granddaddy told me."

"Why would Granddad lie to you?"

It was clear how distraught and angry Ciciley was over this discovery. "I don't know. But I promise you that I intend to find out the truth as soon as your grandmother wakes her ass up."

Detecting the fuming tone in his mother's voice, Sean grew cautious. "Whoa, whoa. Hold on. I don't think it's such a good idea for you to immediately ask questions to a woman who'll be waking up to the world after 63 years."

"Then how'd _you_ suggest we handle it?"

"Slowly. Rather than ask the personal questions, we should ask the official questions."

After a moment of consideration, Ciciley nodded in agreement with her son's idea. "Alright. We'll do it your way. But we ask _my_ questions once the official ones are out of the way."

Having more to say on the matter, Sean was suddenly interrupted by the commotion that took place outside the room. He and Ciciley turned their heads to look out into the hallway just in time to see a group of doctors and paramedics wheeling a patient as fast as possible down the corridor. They got a fleeting glimpse of the patient as he was wheeled right by their window, and Ciciley's eyes widened in alarm once she recognized him as Nick Fury. His body had been fatally shot multiple times, and the sight of it on the stretcher sent Ciciley into a state of panic.

Sean saw her make a quick decision in rushing out of the hospital room. Before she left, she turned to him and instructed, "Stay with your grandmother."

"But Fury…!"

"Don't argue with me, child! Stay here!"

Seeing how stern she was, he did as she told him and watched her through the window as she departed from the hospital room and followed the doctors into the emergency room. She was soon ushered out by one of the doctors, leaving her to nervously stand at the window looking into the ER while the doctors began working on the dying Fury. Sean could see her practically shaking as she watched.

The sound of a woman moaning turned his attention away from the window and back into the room he stood in. Chrissy had reached consciousness. The moment she opened her eyes and saw Sean standing near the foot of her bed, she groggily said in a cultured type of voice, "Hello there. You aren't dressed like any doctor I've ever seen… unless the code's changed these days."

"I'm not a doctor. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Chrissy's eyes lit up with intrigue. "Oh? Well, it's nice to see the government is allowing colored agents in their agency."

"_Colored?_" It was obvious how offended he was by her derogatory remark. "Now listen here – if you expect to get around the new world you're in, you should get used to addressing people like me as 'black,' _not_ 'colored!'"

His tension on the subject made her feel nervous, embarrassed, and guilty. "I-I'm sorry. Really I am. My husband is colo—I mean black. I mean no offen…Wait. Did you say 'new world'?"

Hoping to have broken the ice a bit more discreetly, Sean realized that he now had no other choice but to fill her in on what was happening. "You were found cryogenically frozen for supposedly 63 years. It's 2014."

Chrissy did not seem the least bit surprised to hear this. Instead, she happily clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Hot dog! I did it!"

"Did what?"

"I've finally awakened in the 21st century. I froze myself so that I could awake in a time period with science advanced enough to suit my needs."

This disconcerted Sean as he realized that his grandmother had abandoned family for science. "Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd hoped someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. or the government would find me and thaw me out, and now that you have, I can get right to work. But first I must use the bathroom. Where is it?"

Sean snickered. "They didn't have bedpans in the 1940s?"

"Excuse me, young man, but I detest the idea of urinating in bed. I am _not_ a baby."

In the short amount of time Sean had interacted with her, his grandmother had turned out to be selfish and arrogant in his eyes. He pointed her in the direction of the visitor bathroom to the left side of the room, and she slowly and carefully got up from the bed, unhooking herself from all of the machines while doing so. Balancing herself with the aid of the IV pole she was still hooked to, she headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. It worried Sean how much angrier and frustrated Ciciley would be when _she_ found out the truth in her mother's cryogenic freezing; but it quickly dawned on him that he could not tell her on account of how much further it would separate them.

While waiting for Chrissy to be finished in the bathroom, Sean suddenly caught sight of Maria Hill as she passed by the room, heading towards the ER. Quickly, he rushed out to catch up with her; but, as soon as she saw him following her, she told him, "Now is not the time."

"I only want to know what happened to Fury."

"He was assassinated."

Shocked by this update, he asked, "Do we know who the assassin was?"

"Someone as strong and fast as Captain America. He had a metal arm."

The description she gave him – particularly the "metal arm" part – clued him in on the identity of the assassin: "The Winter Soldier."

Hill glanced his way in surprise. "You know him?"

"Just heard stories, but never thought they were true until now."

The two silenced their exchange upon joining Ciciley, who was already blessed by the accompaniment of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. They all watched the doctors fight to save Fury's life. Unfortunately, they were too late.


	6. The Truth That Lies

_**NOTE: This chapter contains spoilers to "Captain America: The Winter Soldier." If you have not yet seen the movie, see it first before reading.**_

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Truth That Lies**

Nick Fury was dead.

Sitting in the waiting room, Sean did his best to cope with the reality of that fact. He felt angry, but not with himself. What angered him was being forced to take on a bogus assignment while a man he had respected and looked up to all his life needed help that he could not have provided. If there was anyone to blame for Fury's death, it was Natasha Romanoff. She was the one who brought him along for the assignment, in addition to almost getting him killed.

In his desolation, he remembered a phone call that he received shortly before he went on his botched mission. The ID of the caller was anonymous, so he had chosen to ignore it. It suddenly occurred to him that the caller might have been Fury, reaching to him on an unlisted number, so as not to attract attention from his assailants.

_He was trying to reach out to me for help, and I ignored it for a stupid sham of a mission! If I'd just answered that call, I would've…Dammit!_

His level of frustration had increased from these thoughts. It did not help put him at ease to see Romanoff pass by the waiting room in his line of sight. Immediately, he got up and chased her down the nearby hallway. "Natasha!" He called, prompting her to stop and face him. He did his best to control his anger as he addressed her: "We shouldn't have been on that assignment. We could've saved Fury, if we hadn't been out chasing lunatics like Saccheri."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Who's Saccheri?"

Her response surprised him. He could see the confusion on her face but could not determine if it was real or not. Either way, it only frustrated him even more. "Don't play me right now, Natasha – not after what's happened tonight."

"I honestly have no clue what you're talking about, Livingston. I was never on any assignment with you tonight – the last one I had was with Rogers on the Lemurian Star. If you don't believe me, talk to him – he'll confirm it."

She briskly turned and walked away, leaving Sean with feelings of perplexity that replaced anger. He was still frustrated, only now it was fueled by the mystery of recent experiences. _Who was I with that night if it wasn't actually Natasha?_

He barely noticed Elendriel walk into the area, passing right by Romanoff in her hurry. Karter was carried in her arms; he had been left in her care by Ciciley shortly after deciding to take the mysterious child in. "I just heard the news about Fury," Elendriel said as she approached her half-brother. "Is it true?"

He confirmed with a dejected nod. "It is."

Elendriel was speechless for the first time since Sean had known her. It took her at least three minutes to respond with another question: "How's Moms taking it?"

"She's not taking it well at all."

"I'd imagine. Finding out that her mother is still alive and the man she loved has died all in one night – it's got to be the worst time of her life."

"Moms and Fury were _never_ in love."

"Um…yeah…they were, bro. They could never get enough of each other – you saw the way he looked at her during Project Geo, after she got all young and stuff."

"O.K. I wanna talk about something else now."

Elendriel chuckled at his avoidance of the topic. "Alright. What else you want to talk about?"

His eyes centered on Karter, who was practically asleep in Elendriel's arms. "How 'bout _him_? Why was a baby kept in Saccheri's secret room?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But I can tell you this: in the time I've been with him, he's been the cutest little fella I've ever met and not in the least bit 'weird' or 'alien.'"

"Good. The last thing we need now is weirdness."

Elendriel's body stiffened as she caught sight of someone behind him. "She's coming."

It did not take much of a guess for Sean to realize the "she" Elendriel referred to was Ciciley. Sure enough, he turned to see their young mother approach. Her eyes were deep red from crying and her body was quivering more than before. Elendriel immediately comforted her with a hug, being careful not to mush the sleeping Karter between them.

"I'm so sorry, Mama." She sympathetically told her. "Is there anything you need?"

Ciciley took a deep, shaky breath. "All I need now is for the both of you to go home and get some rest. It's been a long night for you two, and you deserve to sleep the day in."

"What about Grandmamma?" Sean questioned.

His question tensed Ciciley even more. "Let _me_ deal with her. From what you've already told her a while ago, I think now's the time for me to ask those questions I have."

She left her children's side and headed down the hallway leading back to Chrissy's room. Watching her leave with such intensity in her demeanor, Sean felt as if old times had returned, and he saw that fierceness that had been absent in his mother in recent years. It took finding the mother she believed was deceased to bring that old attitude back. Sean could not determine if it was good or bad with the events that transpired.

"So, bro, you need a ride?" Elendriel offered.

"Thanks, sis. But I don't plan on going home just yet. I've got some things to figure out."

"About Fury's assassination?"

Speaking with the same intensity that his mother expressed earlier, he told Elendriel, "That's just one piece of the puzzle."

* * *

The Triskelion was just as majestic on the outside as it was on the inside. The view of Washington, D.C. from the windows within the topmost floors of the building was breathtaking. Unfortunately for Sean, he had other things on his mind rather than the décor and view. Leaning against the cold steel wall with his arms crossed, he stood in the hallway of the forty-eighth floor and waited for a particular person of interest to cross by. Many people did in the past hours he patiently waited, including Brock Rumlow.

Rumlow passed through with a member of his S.T.R.I.K.E. team. To Sean, they both appeared quite uneasy, as if they were on a mission right at that moment. As soon as he was right in Livingston's line of sight, he glanced at him and nodded while saying, "How's it goin', sir?"

Sean acknowledged Rumlow's greeting with a nod, having not much to say to the special agent. However, just as the two men approached the elevator on the far right end of the corridor, Sean spoke out: "Hey, Rumlow. The Lemurian Star mission – you and the team were with Cap and Romanoff on that, right?"

"Yes, sir, we were." Rumlow answered while waiting for the elevator to arrive. "Is there something wrong?"

Sean shook his head. "Just needed the confirmation. Thanks."

The elevator door opened for the two men, and they both boarded with one other occupant: Steve Rogers. Sean caught of glimpse of the legendary World War II hero as his iconic shield, attached to his back, faced his way. When the elevator doors closed, sealing Rogers inside with the two S.T.R.I.K.E. members, Sean could have sworn the stiffness in the bodies of Rumlow and his partner increased.

_What mission are those guys on that have them so keyed up?_

The sound of heels clapping against the marbled floor directed his attention to the far left side of the corridor as Romanoff arrived, walking side-by-side with Mindy. Finally, his person of interest showed up. Her behavior was much different than it was earlier at the hospital. She was very cheerful, laughing along with Mindy as if nothing else in the world mattered to her; a very surprising attitude, considering that her boss and greatest ally had been murdered the other night.

While Romanoff and Mindy were moving in closer to him, his right hand guardedly went in beneath his long black trench coat. Once they all made eye contact with each other, Mindy was the first to say, "Hello." Romanoff followed with her own casual "Hello."

"That was some excellent work you did in recovering the hijacked ship, Natasha."

Mindy and Romanoff slowed in their walk down the corridor. It was evident that Natasha had been caught off guard from Livingston's compliment, exchanging a peculiar look with Mindy before she said, "Thank you."

"I'm curious – where was that ship headed before it was hijacked?" Sean quickly followed.

Romanoff hesitated almost too long with an answer. "I…I didn't catch all the specifics on the ship but, if I had to guess, I'd say it was heading for the Atlantic Ocean."

"Uh-huh. And what was the name of the ship?"

Again, she hesitated. "I'm…not entirely sure." She and Mindy nervously looked to each other. It was obvious how guilty they were in Sean's eyes. They could see his right hand move out from beneath his long coat, gripping something that they could barely see as it was hidden behind his right hip.

"The name of the ship is the Lemurian Star. It was heading for the _Indian_ Ocean – way far off from the Atlantic. Of course, you would know that, if you were debriefed before the mission…but you weren't part of that mission, were you?"

Before they knew it, he brought up a black semiautomatic pistol that was aimed directly at Romanoff's head. Fear overtook her face as she stared down the barrel while instinctively raising her hands in the air.

Mindy saw how the situation turned to chaos in the blink of an eye and quickly spoke in Romanoff's defense. "Sean, please put the gun down." Unfortunately, she suddenly found herself staring down the gun barrel, her body turning rigid in reaction.

Not once taking his focus off the two women, Sean opened an unlocked door that he had been standing near. Prior to this confrontation, he scouted the floor for a private area to interrogate them. There was one reserved for such a purpose – a bland, four-walled room with a chrome table and two chairs sitting in the center. He ordered Mindy and Romanoff inside with just an intense stare and a gesture made from the hand he held the gun in. Mindy and Romanoff complied and entered the interrogation room with Sean following behind.

As soon as the three of them were in, he shut the door and went right to questioning: "I want answers." He trained his gun on Romanoff's head again. "I want to know who you _really_ are, because it's obvious you're not Natasha Romanoff. Are you some type of sleeper agent sent to infiltrate our operations? Tearing us down from the inside?"

Mindy smirked. "Man, if you only knew," she muttered.

Sean brought the gun back on Mindy, whose smirk swiftly vanished. "What do you mean by _that_?" He moved the gun back and forth between the two women, both looking very suspicious to him. "What're you two hiding? And you better tell me the truth or else I'm putting bullets in _both_ your craniums!"

Natasha let out a defeated sigh. Staring right at Sean, her face began to emit a faint golden glow. Sean's eyes widened as he witnessed a sudden metamorphosis that she underwent. Her facial features shifted and she became slightly taller with a more robust body type. In a matter of seconds, there was a different woman standing before him bearing resemblance to Natasha Romanoff only by her long red hair and her black catsuit.

Having watched the transformation, which put him in a state of shock, he was barely able to ask, "Who are you?"

The young woman smiled and spoke with a voice different from Natasha's. "You already know me." She raised her left fist in the air and winked at him. "Stay alive, brother."

Sean recognized those words – they were the last ones said to him by the one woman who saved his friends, family, and the rest of the world from Doctor Facilier years ago. "Sheryl?" He lowered the gun, staring at the face of a woman he felt as if he knew.

"I go by 'Genevieve' now." The young woman told him while lowering her hands. "I was reincarnated into a different body."

Shock and fear turned to joy and relief as it finally dawned on Livingston that one of the greatest heroes and allies that he made had returned. "Oh, my god! You're back! You have no idea how much I've missed you! You left such an impact on me and everyone from the Avengers to S.H.I.E.L.D. after Project Geo!"

Genevieve was surprised and touched by this. "Aww! Really?"

Sean replied with a nod before bringing his focus to her disguise. "But why the undercover treatment? You're just as much of a hero as Captain America to this agency. Why be so secretive around us?"

"I've tracked a very dangerous woman named Yve Ette to this world." Genevieve revealed. "I believe she's using one of your threats to bring chaos to every known realm outside this one."

"If she's _that_ dangerous, then you have all the better reason to bring S.H.I.E.L.D. in on this." Sean suggested.

"Right now, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't as trustworthy as you've been led to believe that it is." Mindy told him.

Her keen foresight drew back suspicion in Livingston. "How are you so certain?"

Mindy smiled, hoping he would ask a question like that. "Because I'm a reincarnation like Genevieve. We're both Guardians of the Disneyverse."

Gazing left and right between Mindy and Genevieve, it was astonishingly evident to Sean that _both_ women used to be Sheryl. "My god! How many of you are there?"

"Seventeen." Genevieve casually answered. "Scattered across all space and time…and I'm the last of them."

Sean felt his head spinning from the mind-blowing revelations he had received in such a short period of time. He maintained control long enough to get some more answers from Mindy. "How is it that you know about the future of _this_ universe if you're the guardian of another?"

"I've spent 28 years in this realm – enough time for me to visit its past, present, and future, discovering its secrets from one galaxy to the next." Mindy said. "Your world is bigger and vaster than you know. I've been to places beyond Asgard and met creatures like a talking raccoon and a walking tree that can only say who he is. But the deadliest secret I know is the one that's the biggest hazard to you."

Livingston felt his body go numb. "You mean S.H.I.E.L.D.?" He saw Mindy answer with a discouraged nod. "Well, what is it?"

"I can't say." Mindy remarked. "It might shatter your trust of everything and everyone you've ever cared about."

"If you know as much as you're telling me, then you can tell me who I can or cannot trust, _especially_ if it will save those I care about." Sean said.

Mindy shook her head. "Sean, the threat is so old that they might've already been influenced by it." She saw the look of determination on his face. There was no convincing him. With a heavy sigh, she finally relented: "S.H.I.E.L.D. has been taken over by Hydra. Since its insurrection, Hydra agents have grown in the ranks. It's pretty much impossible to determine who is and who isn't Hydra."

This information sickened Sean to his core. There was a massive lump in his throat that he established was his urge to vomit; but nothing came out. His legs weakened, forcing him to sit down at one of the chairs. He stared into space, lost in a trance brought on by various adverse thoughts and emotions. It was not long before he was snapped back into reality when a transmission went through his earpiece, as well as the ones Mindy and Genevieve had. It was Jasper Sitwell, informing all agents that an A.P.B. had been put on Captain America, whose arrest was warranted on suspicion in the death of Nick Fury.

The day had officially turned into a nightmare.


End file.
